


Never Knew Loving Could Hurt So Good

by secretlesbianage



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, M/M, Mutual Pining, Quidditch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 15:37:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17025381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretlesbianage/pseuds/secretlesbianage
Summary: It all started with a talk on the Quidditch pitch. Oliver was slightly sweaty, Marcus was depressed, and they both needed somebody to love.





	Never Knew Loving Could Hurt So Good

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my first attempts at writing a flintwood fanfic so if it sucks sorry

The rain was pounding hard on the Quidditch pitch. The players struggled to catch and throw the quaffle with their numbed fingers. The beaters, still swinging their bats even in the rain. Everyone watching, still cheering though not being able to see very well. The chasers still playing on despite the rain-slicked quaffle being slippery and hard to catch, and the keepers, still blocking even through the cold and wind. Oliver Wood blocked another shot from the Slytherin captain, Marcus Flint, smirking as he smacked the quaffle away from the center hoop with the back of his broom. Flint snarled at Oliver with his mouthful of crooked teeth and sped off to the other side of the pitch. The rest of the game passed in a rain-soaked blur, but in the end, Gryffindor won. All the players flew to the ground and set off to the changing rooms, as the Gryffindor team was walking, the Slytherins stormed past, Flint purposely knocking his shoulder against Oliver’s. What is his problem? Oliver wondered, glaring at the Slytherin as he stormed away towards the castle. Oliver ran a hand through his damp hair as he sat in the common room, freshly showered and done with homework for the night. His thoughts drifted to the match, and how well everyone had played despite the rain. He wouldn't admit it anyone, but he actually quite admired the other captain's talent, and how driven he was. Oliver had become the captain in his fifth year and has had an intense rivalry with Flint ever since. Right when he thought he didn't have to deal with the Slytherin another year, Flint had to go and get himself held back. Oliver groaned and closed the book he was reading, gently setting it beside him as he closed his eyes and laid back on the couch. Flint was in the same year as him now, that means same classes as well. At least he has Quidditch to take his mind off things. His roommate Percy hated how he was “obsessed” that's his word for it anyway, but Oliver just thought of it as Percy was too school “obsessed” to care about the finer things in life, like Quidditch. Oliver could feel his eyelids getting heavy so he picked himself up off the couch and slowly climbed up the stairs to his dorm. He flopped down in bed and switched off the light, slowly falling into a deep sleep.

Light brushes of rough hands, mouths ghosting over every inch of skin, pulling short hair soft under his fingers, deep moans echoing in his ears. Oliver woke up bathed in sweat, slowly waking up and walking over to the bathroom, turning on the shower and stepping in, rinsing away the last bits of sleep. As he finished rinsing his hair and turned off the water he remembered his dream the night before and nearly fell over in surprise. He pushed it far into the back of his head as he got ready for the day. 

Oliver sat down at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall and talked with his friends as he ate. His gaze traveled around the hall and came to rest on a certain Slytherin sitting directly in his line of vision. Suddenly his dream came flashing back to him, he quickly pushed the dream away once again. He couldn't be having these thoughts again, not now, and certainly not about him. Not about Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Quidditch team captain, and his arch-enemy, with his troll-like appearance and crooked teeth. No matter how good he was at Quidditch or how good he looked in the… Oliver quickly stopped thinking before he could finish that thought  
“Oliver? You okay?” His friend, Katie Bell asked worriedly.  
“Oh yeah, fine,” He brushed her off, “Just a little tired.” She didn't look convinced but went back to eating anyway. Oliver sighed and tried to think of anything other than the main subject of his thoughts recently, and the distant memory of blunt fingernails raking down his back.

Oliver dropped his bag on the floor next to his chair on the floor of the Transfiguration classroom. Behind him, the rest of the students slowly came filing in, the seat beside him staying empty as this was one of the few classes he didn’t have with Percy. Professor McGonagall stood up and cleared her throat, almost immediately the whole classroom silenced. Right as she was starting to talk, the door slowly creaked open and slammed shut. As if on cue everyone turned around at once. There stood a slightly sheepish looking Marcus Flint. From across the room, McGonagall spoke. “Late again, Flint. Take the empty seat next to Mr. Wood,” She seemed to sense his hesitation. “Now, Flint,” With that, she began teaching her lesson and Flint slowly walked over, purposely hitting Oliver with his bag as he set it down on the ground.

Oliver groaned as he set his bag down and collapsed on the bed. Percy looked up from his homework and raised his eyebrows. “What's wrong with you?”  
“Flint,” He mumbled into his pillow. Percy rolled his eyes and started picking up his books. “Where are you off to?”  
“Penelope wants to meet up to study.”  
“Of course she does.”  
“You could come. It wouldn’t hurt to study every one in a while.”  
“Yeah and third wheel no thank you, have fun.”

“Watch it!” Snapped the boy from the floor. “You're the one who ran into me,” Oliver replied, sticking out his hand to help the person up. Flint snarled at him but took it anyway, Oliver pulled him up then realized he was still holding his hand, letting go immediately and glaring at the Slytherin. He started walking to the doors of the Great Hall but turned around, “Oh and Flint, watch it,” Percy sat at the table, piling food on his plate, and looked up at Oliver when he sat down with a sigh. “What took you so long?”  
“Sorry, unexpected confrontation with an arsehole,” Percy chuckled and handed Oliver a plate.  
“Forget about him.”  
“I need revenge.”  
“For what?”  
“Not revenge no, I need him to leave me alone.”  
“You could try leaving him alone.”  
“I could get the twins to help me prank him.”  
“Or you could avoid him altogether.”  
“Oh, I could sabotage a Quidditch match.”  
“Here’s a brilliant idea, why don’t you just leave him alone because nobody cares anymore,” Oliver rolled his eyes and grabbed a muffin.  
“Whatever. Did we have that essay in charms due today or tomorrow?”  
“You mean the one we’ve known about for a week? Today.”  
“Shit.”

 

Oliver walked out onto the Pitch, his broom in his hand. Once he reached the middle, he took off, the air biting him through his clothes. After a few laps, he noticed someone leaning against the stands below. He flew down to the ground and stormed over to where the person was standing. “What do you want, Flint. To antagonize me more?”  
“No, I just wanted to go for a fly, is that a crime now?”  
“Obviously not, but why aren’t you flying.”  
“Because you were.”  
“So?”  
“I can’t fly if you are.”  
“Oh whatever, suit yourself.”  
“I need to practice.”  
“Well great, so do I. Come back another time.”  
“No.”  
“Why not, too dumb to know when you can or can’t?”  
“I know fine, but I’m not leaving. I came here for the same reason you did, Wood.”  
“Fine then. You probably need more practice than me anyway, not that you haven’t gotten enough since you’ve been here a year longer than any of the rest of us will be.”  
“You take that back.”  
“Make me.”  
He shoved Oliver back onto the grass and stood over him. Oliver scrambled back up and brought his fist back, punching the boy in the nose. Flint looked up at him, blood dripping down his face and punched Oliver in the stomach, shoving him down again.  
“Do not start with this, you won’t win Wood, trust me,” Oliver let out a low growl and tackled Flint to the ground, pinning him with his knees.  
“Oh yeah?” Flint grinned evilly and flipped them over so that Oliver was on the ground.  
“Yeah,” Oliver struggled, but the Slytherin had him pinned down.  
“Let me go.”  
“How about no.”  
“Get the fuck off me Flint, I’m gonna kill you.”  
“You aren’t really in a position to make threats, are you?” He tried to get his arms free, but to no avail.  
“Fine, you wanna play dirty, then that’s the way it’s gonna be.” Oliver brought his knee up and kneed Flint right where he knew it’d hurt. He jumped off him right away and Oliver scrambled up, running back to the castle. He stopped to catch his breath once he’d gotten inside and then kept running back to his room. Never looking back once.

He closed the door behind him and sat on the ground, covering his head with his hands. “What’s wrong with you this time?”  
“Nothing, Percy, don’t worry about it.”  
“I don’t know, you look pretty roughed up.”  
“Nah, I’m good,” Oliver replied, running a hand through his hair and letting his head fall back against the door. “Just a little tired.”  
“Well that’s to be expected,” Percy glanced at his watch, “since it’s 12 o’clock at night.”  
“Shut up.”  
“Sorry. Does little Ollie need his beauty sleep.”  
“It isn’t easy looking this good.”  
“You’re a mess, Wood.”  
“Yeah yeah, whatever you say. I’m going to bed because I’m fucking tired.”  
“Again, midnight. Also, watch your language.”  
“Fucker.”  
“My heart just broke.”  
“GOODNIGHT PERCIVAL!”  
“That’s not…”  
“Shhh,” Oliver cut him off. Percy rolled his eyes and turned off the desk lamp.  
“Go shower Oliver you stink.”

 

The next morning, Oliver pulled on his favorite running hoodie and snuck out of the common room. He walked into the Quidditch pitch and started running. One lap, two, three. The more labored his breathing got, the clearer his head became. He stopped when he noticed someone watching him from under the stands. He jogged over and ran his hands through his now sweaty hair.  
“Do you come here often and just watch people or is that a new thing,” Oliver inquired, leaning against the stands and batting away smoke.  
“You think I just came to watch you?” Flint replied. “Hilarious.”  
“Those things can kill you you know,” Oliver remarked, nodding to the cigarette between Flint’s fingers.  
“Do I look like I really care?”  
“Oh please don’t play that card. What’s got you so depressed?”  
Flint raised his eyebrows and took another drag. He blew out and laughed.  
“Not everyone is some golden boy Gryffindor with a perfect life Wood. As much as that might surprise you.”  
“I know that, but you’re Quidditch captain, you’ve got a real future.”  
“If Quidditch was everything then yeah I’d be set. But it’s not. Not to a father that only thinks of you as a disappointment.”  
“I’m sure he doesn’t think that,” Oliver mumbled. Flint laughed again.  
“You’re really on a roll tonight Wood. Trust me he does. Everyone does. Who has to repeat a year at Hogwarts? That’s pathetic! I’ve never heard of someone having to, have you?”  
“Well no, but I’ll have you know I don’t think you’re a disappointment.”  
“That’s because all you care about is Quidditch.”  
“Well yeah, and you’re not complete shit at it.”  
“Wow thanks, not complete shit. I’m honored, truly.”  
“I mean it Flint. I might hate you but you’re not completely awful, and you’re not a disappointment,” Flint looked at him with a look Oliver couldn’t quite interpret. “I think that’s the first somewhat pleasant conversation we’ve ever had.”  
“Yeah it is Wood. Don’t ruin it,” with that they both silenced, sneaking looks at each other every so often but mostly sitting in silence, staring at the stars. What neither of them cared to mention was how Flint moved his hand so their hands would brush. Or how that simple movement left Oliver with a strange feeling in his chest that he couldn’t quite get rid of for the rest of the night. And how even when they returned to their beds those feelings still remained. Because as they were soon to realize, maybe they weren’t so different after all.


End file.
